Tell The Wolves I’m Home — Review

March 6, 2015

I got a copy of Tell the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt back at BEA 2013 and due to school and life and disorganized bookshelves after moves, I didn’t pick it up until the start of this year.

This book received a lot of buzz and praise and all that, but if I’m honest, it felt a little lacking.

I didn’t actively dislike it, I just thought it was fine. I often have very passionate feelings about books, so to be so completely “meh” about one is kind of weird for me.

The protagonist is fourteen, but I kept forgetting how old she’s supposed to be. I think Brunt fell into a common trap of writing an extremely precocious young narrator — sometimes she reads way older, and other times way younger. While this is sometimes an accurate representation of precocious children (more mature than their peers in some ways, but significantly behind in others), on the page the disparities are jarring. Additionally, I found that there was something off, or not quite believable about the personal relationships between the characters — especial the family members.

This is another book that just wasn’t for me. For one, I’m not necessarily the target audience. Sometimes I think that I forget that when I read YA. I don’t think that there is anything wrong with adults reading YA — in fact, I think it’s good. But, YA is (and should continue to be) for young adults, which means that sometimes it just isn’t going to be totally up my alley. And that’s fine. That might have been my problem here, who can really say?

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